LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



4^ ^-tf "^"^^^«' 




THE 



Little Tin Gods-on-WheelS: 



7 



OR, 



Soctrtg in our IHotiern ^tl)nt;5. 



A Trilogy after the Manner of the Greek. 



1^ 




FROM THE ''HARVARD LAMPOON:' 



CAMBRIDGE: 
CHARLES W. SEVER. 
1879. 









Copyright^ 

Charles W. Sever. 

1879. 



Cambridge: 

UNIVERSITY PRESS; JOHN WILSON & SON. 



THE 



LITTLE TIN GODS-ON-W HEELS. 



THE WALLFLOWERS. 
A TRAGEDY AFTER THE MANNER OF THE GREEK. 

DRAMATIS PERSONS. 

Miss Tigerlily, a wallji<rcvcr. 

Mr. Carnation, a kind-hearted hit inexperienced young man. 

Mr. Crocus, a worldling of some years' standing. 

Chorus of "Wallflowers, fashionable yoimg men, etc. 

The scene is laid in Boston, the Modern Athens. The curtain rises on 
a magnificent ballroom. Majiy are daiicing. MiSS Tigerlily and 
a group of wallflozuers are huddled together at one end of the room. 
Around the door are groups of young men. 

CHORUS OF WALLFLOWERS. 

WE the unfortunate, dull and respectable, 
Good, but not beautiful, no one will speak to, 
Fearing lest they will be stuck on us during the 
Whole of the evening. Men are but simpering 
Idiots any way. Little we care for them, 
Rarely we think of them. All our delight is in 
Culture and intellect, sense and refinement. 



4 The Little Till Gods-on-WJieels. 

We should not wish to be worldly and beautiful, 
Foolish and frivolous. No, not for anything. 

Etiter Mr. Carnation ivith his opera hat, embossed with a gorgeous 
monogram, tinder his arm. He scans the various groups luith a 
troubled air, and then soliloquizes as follows : — 

CARNATION. 

O, what a selfish place is this gay world ! 

Alas ! it wounds me to the quick'to see 

That ghastly row of unattended maids 

Glued, meek as heifers, to the garnished wall. 

Shy, shrinking flowers, who but need the sun 

Of some man's smile to bloom in peerless beauty ; 

And others plain as pikestaffs, but with minds 

Cultured and stored with lore of Greece and Rome, 

(Ah, what is beauty but a trap and snare, 

Unless there is a mind to back it up !) 

Around the door a throng of callous brutes, 

AVho claim the name of men, stand unconcerned 

And see these frail exotics droop and wilt 

Without a pang, and then go idly home. 

Not such am I. This noble spirit stirs 

Me up to action. I will show these curs 

That Chivalry lives still and cannot die. 

What ho ! there ! Crocus, will you kindly give me 

An introduction to that girl in pink ? 

CROCUS. 

Great Caesar's ghost ! My dear boy, do you know 
That that rare maid in pink is she whom men 



"fril b u o u ' 





ijvT' 



-> 



TJie Walljiozvers. 5 

Who know her style in playful irony 

" Old Prob," because she ne'er was known to talk 

Of anything but weather, winds, and rain ? 

You will be stuck as sure as you are born. 

Believe me, I should much prefer to be 

" A pagan suckled in a creed outworn," 

Than talk to her. 

CARNATION, 

Stop, ruthless man ! thank Heaven 
My heart is not yet hardened by the world. 
Poor lamb ! I '11 talk to thee for all thy weather. 

CROCUS. 

Carnation, in the name of goodness, pause ! 
Let not your tender nature rule your reason ; 
I vow she 's nothing but a mere barometer. 

CARNATION. 

I swear I '11 speak to her. Unhand me. Crocus ; 

By Heaven ! I '11 make mince-meat of him that stops me. 

He drags Crocus tip to Miss TiGERLiLY. Crocus introduces him 
and immediately leaves. Carnation begins to talk to her in the 
most charming and anitnated way in the background. She replies 
languidly. 

CHORUS OF FASHIONABLE YOUNG MEN. 

Nothing refineth the young like experience. 
He the impetuous, green and undisciplined, 
Won't be so eager to talk with that serious- 



6 The Little Tin Gods-on- Wheels. 

Minded young damosel after he 's been with her 
All of an evening, stuck on her terribly. 
We the long-suffering, taught by experience, 
Foxy as Lucifer, ne'er will be caught again. 
Not if we know ourselves, you bet your hat on it ! 
That is the species of hair-pins that we are ! 

During the chortis Carnation imd Miss Tigerlily have approached 
the front of the stage. His face, having gradually grown giaver 
and graver, has now assumed an expression of mingled despair 
and horror. 

CARNATION (Jiavijig made several attempts at conversation, 

tries again). 

You say you do not care for parties much, 
You probably have many outside interests? 

MISS TIGERLILY. 

Yes. Was it raining when you left the street ? 

CARNATION. 

I think it was, but, faith, I did not notice. 

MISS TIGERLILY. 

What dreadful weather we 've been having lately ! 

CARNATION. 

Does not the winter meet your approbation ? 

MISS TIGERLILY. 

I really hardly know. Sometimes I think 
'J'hat snow is nicest, sometimes I like rain ; 



The Wallflowers. 7 

Often a thaw delights me, and a freeze 
Perhaps is better; pleasant, too, is hail. 

Pauses as if frightened at having made such a long speech. 

CARNATION {to cha?tge the subject). 
Shall we not try the entry for a change ? 

MISS TIGERLILY. 

No, thank you ; I '11 stay here. I don't like draughts ; 
I think the wind is high to-night. I hope 
It will go down before the peep of dawn. 

CARNATION. 

I hope so, truly. Will you have some supper? 

MISS TIGERLILY (brightening tif). 

Yes, thank you ; I will take a glass of water, 
Some beef, or if there is none, some croquets, 
A napkin, and a plate of frozen pudding. 

Carnation helps her to all these. She says nothing except that the 
croqttets are too hot and the ice too cold. Having removed the last 
plate, Carnation does not return, but moves to the other end of the 
room, apparently a blighted being. 

CARNATION. 

All, all is gone ! The milk of human kindness 
Within me is dried up. Now am I ht 
For murder, treason, stratagem, and spoils; 
Now could I strangle babes, and smile to see 
A cannibal tear beings limb from limb 
And roast their joints before a red-hot fire. 



8 TJie Little Tin Gods-on- Wheels. 

I have supped full with horrors, and shall ne'er 
Behold it rain or snow without a shudder. 
O Crocus, Crocus, I have wronged you deeply ! 
Straight will I hie me to the foxy caravan 
Of youths about the door, and pardon beg 
From those whom lately I did so revile. 
O, how much sharper than a serpent's tooth 
It is to talk to barometric girls ! 

Carnation walks across the room, and shakes Crocus's hand warmly. 
Crocus places a ivreath cf laurel iipon his head, and leads him to the 
head of the chorus. Both choruses march about the stage with defiant 
gestures. 

CHORUS OF WALLFLOWERS. 

See how the ingrate leaves the aesthetic one, 

Her the unfortunate, good but not beautiful. 

He the illiterate could not appreciate 

Her the intelligent. Men are but simpering 

Idiots anyway. Little she cares for him. 

She would not wish to be worldly and beautiful, 

Foolish and volatile ; no, not for anything. 

CHORUS OF FASHIONABLE YOUNG MEN. 

See how the prodigal comes to the fold again, 
Taught by experience hard, but salubrious. 
Sweet is adversity. He is now disciplined, 
Crowned with the laurel, and foxy as Lucifer ; 
He won't be snared again, not by a jug full ! 
That is the kind of a hair-pin that he is ! 

The guests show signs of going home. Miss Tigerlily and her mother, 
with an injured air, leave the ballroom. Carnation and Crocus 
go off arm in arm. The curtain descends while the choruses are 
repeating their last strophes. 



The Little Tin-Gods-on- W lie els. 



THE LITTLE TIN GODS-ON-WHEELS. 

A Sequel to " The Wallflowers:' 
A TRAGEDY AFTER THE MANNER OF THE GREEK. 

DRAMATIS PERSONS. 

Miss Jacqueminot, a raving beauty. 
' Miss Bonselline, a tearing bud. 
Mr. Souvenir, a howling swells one of the little Tin Gods-on- 

Wheels. 
Miss Smilax, a parasite. 

Choruses of Tin Gods-on^ Wheels, parasitical young ladies, tearing 
buds, raving beauties, etc. 

The scene is laid in Boston, the Modern AtheJis. The curtain rises 
on a inagniflcent ballroom Young ladies ami men of all sorts are 
groiiped about the room. The clock strikes half past ten. The door 
opens, and Mr. Souvenir rt-/^^/^ number of other little Tin Gods- 
on-Wheels just from a di)iner-party enter, %vith boutojinicres in their 
buttonholes and pride in their hearts. 

CHORUS OF LITTLE TIN GODS-ON-WHEELS. 

Look at those dear little, sweet little, nice little 

Girls in the corner, who are all dying to 

Have us come up to them. Which of the darlings » 

Shall we make happy to-night with our presence .? 

We the magnificent leaders of fashion, 

Fresh from a dinner and tony as possible ; 

W^e the young men who don't rise in the morning, 

Wedded to style, and without occupation. 



10 The Little Tin Gods-on- Wheels. 

CHORUS OF PARASITICAL YOUNG LADIES. 

Happy the maid whom fate ordains 
To spend the evening with a swell ; 

What matter that he has no brains, 

■ Provided that it looketh well ! 

For what is sense compared to dog, 
Or intellect to tone and style ? 

Though he be heavy as a log, 
If he 's the fashion we will smile. 

Souvenir, after gazing around for some tnoinents as if he 07.vned the 
room, approaches Miss Smilax, and offers to shake hatids with 
her in the most patronizing way. 

MISS SMILAX. 

O Mr. Souvenir ! how nice it is 

To see you here. I had begun to think 

You were not coming. Were you at the dinner ? 

SOUVENIR (^gradually edging off). 

Yes. Charmed, I 'm sure. Excuse me ; see you later. 

By the most skilful manceiivre he slips away before Mr. Carnation, 
the less experienced youth who was talking to Miss Smilax wheji 
he came up, can anticipate him. Miss Smilax beams all over for 
ten minutes after. Souvenir next approaches Miss Bonselline. 

CHORUS OF TEARING BUDS. 

Look at that mass of conceited presumption 
Going the rounds in his usual manner. 
Is n't he horrid ? But, sisters, speak softly. 
It would not do for the world to offend him. 
He is a man who can make us or mar us ; 



"TnrTnrTr 






J I II Lr 

'Crry ] a A U 



J _'l .11 I 



i^^\.4J^ 




71ie L it tie Tin Gods on- Wheels. 1 1 

Make us the " thing," or condemn us forever. 
So we must smile and seem awfully flattered, 
For it is swell to be seen with the creature. 
Rough him as much as you like, for he never 
By the least possible chance would perceive it j 
For he considers he does us a favor 
If he but tread on the train of our dresses. 

Souvenir offei-s his hand to Miss Bonselline very much as if he 
were Chief yustice of the United States^ and she a child of eight. She 
appears grateful, however. 

SOUVENIR. 

I hope, Miss Bonselline, you are enjoying 

Yourself this evening. Does the gay world treat you 

Kindly, and send you lots of pleasant partners ? 

MISS BONSELLINE. 

O Mr. Souvenir ! to have yoii speak to me 
Is bliss enough, you know. 

SOUVENIR. 

O, thank you, thank you ! 
Don't mention it. Excuse me ; see you later. 

He takes advantage of Mr. Crocus, who has come Tip to Miss Bonsfi - 
LINE zuith a plate of ice-cream, to glide atuay, although it requires the 
quickness of a cat, for Crocus has powers that may not be sneezed 
at, joined to thefoxiness of a Nestor. Souvenir next goes up to MiSS 
Jacqueminot, an experienced raving bea7dy, 

CHORUS OF RAVING BEAUTIES. 

See how the parasites giggle and flatter, 

See how the debutantes smile and look happy, 



12 The Little Tin Gods-on-Wheels. 

If he but speak to them, he the time-serving, 
Saucy, conceited, and arrogant monster. 
Older are we than those volatile damosels ; 
We have position, and beaux without number. 
But yet (ahis for the weakness of woman !) 
We still must worship for politic reasons. 
He has no brains, to be sure, but his money 
Gives him the means to indulire in exotics. 
Is there a girl who is proof against roses ? 
He is a bore of the very first water, 
But he gives dinners to those whom he fancies ; 
And a club dinner is not to be sneezed at: 
Is n't it horrid t But how can we help it ? 

Souvenir shakes hands 7oilh Miss Jacqueminot as if he thought that 
he was doing a charitable act. She also appears to feel honored. 

SOUVENIR. 

Really, Miss Jacqueminot, I 've not been able 
To speak to you before ; you 're so surrounded. 

MISS JACQUEMINOT. 

To have you speak to me at any time 
Suffices me ; for beggars can't be choosers. 

SOUVENIR. 

Ah ! very kind of you to say so, really; — 
There are so many girls it 's- quite impossible 
To speak to all. And what with dining out 
So much as I do, one gets very weary 
Of parties. 



The Little Tin Gods-on- Wheels. 13 

MISS JACQUEMINOT. 

Yes ; of course a man like you 
Must find society grow stale at times ; 
Most men of intellect do find it slow. 

SOUVENIR. 

Yes ; I must own we do. But I confess 
That I am fond of girls ; I really am. 

MISS JACQUEMINOT. 

O, thank you, thank you ! We are very grateful. 
At this moment Mr. Carnation comes tip with a plate of salad. 

SOUVENIR. 

Ah ! thank you. Pray excuse me ; see you later. 

Souvenir moves to the other end of the room zvith a satisfied air. He 
fills a glass with champagne and soliloquizes. Carnation comes up 
and listens to him with mouth-open admiration. 

Poor little dears, how much they owe us men I 

That girl was almost frantic with delight ; 

And those young things with whom I talked at first 

Looked proud as peacocks when they had me round. 

It wearies one, I know ; but yet it were 

A selfish thing to disappoint the dears 

By staying e'en a single night at home. 

I must be a most fascinating man : 

'T is not my fault ; the ladies must blame Heaven. 

[Exit. 

Miss Jacqueminot and Miss Bonselline, who have been talking to- 
gether, approach the front of the stage. 



14 The Little Tin Gods-on- Wheels. 

MISS BONSELLINE. 

He did? The horrid, mean, conceited thing I 
I never want to speak to him again. 

MISS JACQUEMINOT. 

Patience, my dear ! To-night we have to smile, 

But on the morrow at the sewing-circle 

We '11 put a head on this small God-on-Wheels ; 

We '11 pick him into little bits of pieces, 

And tear his wretched. character to rags. 

My blood is up at last, and I am fit 

For gossip, slander, libel, and revenge. 

After this evening's torture I could lie, 

Forge, rehypothecate, or play the trick 

The adder palmed off on the countryman 

Without a pang. O, let us, dearest friend. 

From this day forth take pains to make it plain 

To man, that woman's never-dying dread 

Is talking to a little God-on-Wheels, 

T7iey clasp each other s hands^ and move to the head of the united 
choruses of tearing buds and raving beauties. MiSS Smilax marches 
at the head of the chorus of parasitical girls. The various choruses 
begin to move with warlike gestures. 

CHORUS OF PARASITICAL GIRLS. 

Happy the maid whom fate ordains 
To pass the evening with a swell ! 

AVhat matter that he has no brains, 
Provided that it looketh well ! 

For what is sense compared to dog, 
Or intellect to tone and style .'' 



The Little Tin Gods-on- Wheels. 15 

Though he be heavy as a log, 
If he 's the fashion, we all smile. 

CHORUS OF LITTLE TIN GODS ON-WHEELS. 

Dear little, sweet little, nice little damosels, 

We the magnificent cream of society 

Bid you good-night, and we trust you feel gratitude* 

For the sweet smiles we have scattered among you. 

We have been bored, but we gladly put up with it : 

Nothinof is sweeter than disinterestedness. 

CHORUS OF TEARING BUDS AND RAVING BEAUTIES. 

See those detestable, time-serving hypocrites. 
Probably boasting that we are in love with them. 
Pitiful creatures, they think that they flatter us 
By their grimaces that look like orang-outang's. 
When we assemble to sew for the indigent, 
Trust us to tinker the little tin monsters. 

The curtain descends while the choruses are still singing. 



1 6 TJie Little Tin Gods-on- Wheels. 



THE CHAPERONS. 

A Siipple77ient to " The Walljlozvers " and " The Little Tin Gods-on- 

Wheels r 

A TRAGEDY AFTER THE MANNER OF THE GREEK. 

DRAMATIS PERSONiE. 

Mr. Jacqueminot, the father of a raving beauty. 

Mrs. Bonselline, the mother of a tearing bnd. 

Mrs. Tigerlily, the mother of a wallftoiuer. 

Mrs. Souvenir, the another of a little Tin God-on- Wheels. 

Mr. Crocus, a ivorldlinv of some years' standi ns". 1 

,,^ ,., Managers 

Mr. Souvenir [fils), a hozvling swell and Tin God. I 

Mr. Carnation, a kind-hearted but inexperienced [ -^ '^ 

young vian. i German. 

Choriises of mothers, fathers, etc. Various other characters. 
The scene is laid in Boston, the Modern Athens. The curtain rises on 
a public ballroom. A Germaft is about to begin. On scats, around 
the hall, are ranged a host of Chaperons, mostly mothers and aunts. 
There are a fe%u fathers scattered among them. At the door of the 
dressing-room appear Mr. Jacqueminot and daughter, Mesdames 
Bonselline, Tigerlily, Souvenir, with a bevy of their own 
daughters, and daughters of other people intrusted to them. The 
ushers rush forward. Souvenir secures Miss Jacqueminot. Mr. 
Jacqueminot {pire) escorts Mrs. Bonselline /c ^z j^rt;/. Crocus 
leads off Miss Bonselline. Carnation is left to take charge of 
Mrs. Tigerlily, her daughter, and two Miss Daffodils, /;w/? the 
country, tvho are staying with Mrs. Tigerlily. 

CHORUS OF CHAPERONS {fuothers). 

We, the mammas of those lovely young damosels, 
Once ourselves raving and tearing and beautiful, 



Tnri 



Raaa' 









uHU ttftii' 




^' 



The Chaperons. 17 

We the long-suffering, pitiful chaperons, 

Curious, critical, slightly censorious, 

Sit here in slumberous, somnolent solitude, 

Making remarks, duly tempered with charity. 

On the young persons composing society. 

See that unfortunate Eleanor Daffodil, 

Fresh from the country, and green as asparagus. 

Look at the cut and the set of the dress on her, 

Does n't she have the effect of a rag-bag ? 

Taste never ran in the Daffodil family. 

MRS. SOUVENIR {convcrsing witk Mr. Jacqueminot). 
O Mr. Jacqueminot, your lovely daughter 
Looks like a queen to-night ; that perfect dress, 
Which came from Worth, — I know it by the cut, — 
Is truly exquisite. My Alice Blanche 
Comes out next winter, and I really think 
That I shall send to him for all her clothes. 

MR. JACQUEMINOT. 

Your daughter, Mrs. Souvenir, would captivate 

In any dress. Her laughing, liquid eyes 

Will shatter hearts like reeds. I hear your son 

Is so attractive ; only watch him now. 

With what a fmished air of well-bred ease 

He 's fanning Lulu Bonselline. O, charming, charming! 

MRS. TiGERLiLY {to Mrs. Bonselline, Seated Oil the other side 

of the room). 
Tell me, my dear, who made that lovely tulle 
Of Lulu's ? It must surely be Pingard's. 



1 8 The Little Tin Gods-oti- Wheels. 

MRS. BONSELLINE. 

No, it was made by Felix, and it fits 
Extremely well, and yet upon the whole 
I think that Froment gives more satisfaction, 
He trims so sweetly. It is such a comfort 
To get one's things in Paris ; such a contrast 
In prices to the wretches on this side, 
Although I must confess that Santin made 
A bonnet for my Lulu, that compares 
With Virot's very well. 

MRS. TIGERLILY. 

My Georgiana 
Finds Parcher pretty good. O dear, O dear ! 
I said it would be so ! Look how her skirt 
Is hanging ! Tell me, dear, what shall I do ? 

Makes frantic signs to her daicghter, who finally approaches on the 
arm ^Carnation. Mrs. T. whispers to her, and she goes off to 
thedressijtg-room, while Carnation waits for her at the door. 

CHORUS OF CHAPERONS (fnothers). 

Don't you believe that it 's pretty near supper-time ? 

We are beginning to get up an appetite. 

Silently sitting in slumberous solitude. 

Look how that volatile little Miss Bonselline 's 

Torn all to tatters her train irreproachable, 

Dancing that horrible, barbarous redowa. 

Watch that unfortunate youngest Miss Daffodil 

Try to keep time with the elegant Souvenir ! 

O, what a bungle and mess she has made of it ! 



The Chapero7is. 19 

Carnation brings some salad and champagne to Mrs. Tigerlily 
and Mrs. Bonselline. Souvenir comes up in a very magnificent 
manner after they are helped, and asks if he can get them any- 
thing. 

MRS. TIGERLILY. • 

O, thank you, no, we have got all we want : 
Your party is a wonderful success. 

Souvenir boius his thanks, waves his opera hat superbly, and i;lides 

away. 

He certainly has most delightful manners. 

That young Carnation is a real good boy, 

But rather gauche, you know. O, there 's my Georgy 

Talking to Hurly Crocus ! Don't they make 

A charming couple ? 

MRS. BONSELLINE. 

Very much so, dear. 
But, O, do tell me who is that strange man 
That 's talking now to Peepy Jacqueminot ? * 

MRS. TIGERLILY. 

Why, he 's a titled Englishman, named Nightshade, 
Spending a fortnight with young Scarlet Runner. 
Lord Deadly Nightshade 's what I think they call him. 
They say he 's awful rich and full of talent. 

MRS. BONSELLINE. 

How nice ! now really, you don't tell me so ? 
Why, just look there, he 's being introduced 
To Lulu, — O, I hope she '11 have the sense 
To ask him to our party. Is it not 



20 TJie Little Tin Gods-on- Wheels. 

A most distinguished name, — Lord Deadly Nightshade ? 
It 's dangerous to have a handsome daughter. 

MRS. TIGERLILY. 

* 

I feel with you, my dear, I 've just found out 

That Georgy is a beauty. Only think, -^ 

Cecilia Mignonette told Martha Cowslip ; 

That Mr. Jacqueminot told her that Georgy 

Had finer eyes than any girl in Boston. 

He is a first-rate judge, and lots of others 

Have told me the sime thing. I 've always thought 

Her quite nice-looking, but, dear, nothing further. 

I see a mother's judgment can't be trusted. 

Vou ought to see her in her new spring kilt, 

Cut very short ; she really does look sweetly. 

MRS. SOUVENIR {fo Mr. J ACQUEMINOT). 

Just do look now at Georgy Tigerlily 
Sitting alone, — she 's never taken out. 
One would suppose her mother would get tired 
Of seeing her neglected. But she goes 
Night after night, and says that she enjoys it. 
Poor child ! it is not her fault that she 's plain. 

MR. JACQUEMINOT. 

She has not certainly a ray of beauty. 
No style, and Peepy says no conversation. 

MRS. SOUVENIR. 

O, what a contrast she is to your Peepy ! 

Mr. Jacqueminot whispers something in reply that is inaudible. 
Mrs. Souvenir looks immensely flattered. 



The CJiaperons. 21 

CHORUS OF CHAPERONS (^fathers). 
Look here now, we are decidedly sick of this ; 
It 's the last time that we mean to put up with it, 
Sitting up this way till two in the morning ! 
One must be made like the Archangel Gabriel, 
Blessed with Job's patience, and more than humanity 
Not to get mad at this wildly preposterous, 
Perfectly scandalous state of society. 

When we were young would our parents have winked at it ? 
Not they, the sturdy and strait-laced old Puritans ! 
We will not either, and this is the last of it, — 
This is the last of it, you bet your hat on it ! 

CHORUS OF Chaperons {inotlm-s). 
Come, dears, it's time to be putting an end to it, 
We are all getting as sleepy as pussy-cats. 
Lulu must be up all fresh for her practising 
Early to-morrow, and Peepy has harmony. 
O, it is hard on us pitiful chaperons, 
Sitting alone in our slumberous solitude. 
O, we are somnolent ! Where are the carriages ? 
Wrap yourselves well, dears, the night is a chilly one. 
Once we \^Q.x& charming and lovely young damosels. 
Once 2ii'e were raving and tearing and beautiful. 

The party breaks tip. Miss Tigerlily and Miss Bonselline 
shake and wake their respective mothers. Mr. Jacqueminot, in a 
jaded manner^ sees Mrs. Souvenir to tJu dressing-room door. The 
ushers rush after hacks. The curtain descends while the choruses are 
still singifig. 



OXYGEN ! 



A MT. DESERT PASTORAL. 







^%^ 






OXYGEN ! 

A MT. DESERT PASTORAL. 

A trifle offered by LamJ)y without com??ient, as an example of the effect 
that a bracing atmosphere can produce upon conservative natures. 

DRAMATIS PERSONS. 

Miss Alice Bunting, of Philadelphia, cetatis 21 yrs. 6 7nos. 
Mr. Arthur Flannelshirt, A. B., LL. B., of Boston, cstatis 2^ yrs. 
3 1110S. 

Scene I. — Mi. Desert. Corridor of Rodick House. 
Hour.^ io.2)0 P. M. 

Enter Miss Bunting and Mr. Flannelshirt ar7n in arm. Her 
dress is a blue and xvhite boating-siiit, cut short. A hat with a huge 
brim and draped with a large red handkerchief is perched 07t the back 
of her head. He is attired in a gray shirt offlan7tel, a pair of patched 
pantaloons, a skullcap, and canvas shoes. He is smokiiig a pipe. She 
paitses at room twenty, and taking a key from her pocket gives it to 
him. He unlocks the door. She goes in and returns with a small 
pitcher. 

ALICE. 

And now, good night. But ere you go, do get me, 
As usual, some hot water from the kitchen. 

ARTHUR. 

Give me the jug, and in half a jiffy 

I will be back. (Runs do7vn I he corridor'^ 



26 Oxygen. 

ALICE (shrieking after hint). 

Be sure that it is boiling ! 

She goes into her room and shuts the door. Interval of five minutes. 
Re-enter Arthur, ivith the pitcher of hot water and a plate of hard 
crackers. He knocks, and she puis her head out. 

ALICE. 

Wliat made you take so long? But O, how lovely, 
To bring me some hard crackers too ! Just toss me 
One from the plate and see if I can catch it. 

He does so, and she, emerging from the room, tries to catch it in her 
mouth. The cracker falls on the ground. They both stoop to pick up 
the pieces, and bump their heads. 

ALICE. 

You horrid thing! You stupid, awkward creature 1 
She play fully flings the bits of cracker at him. 

ARTHUR. 

Come now, it 's much too early to retire. 

Let 's go and eat our crackers on the staircase ; 

It would be sort of weird. Say, don't you think so ? 

ALICE. 

Why, yes. I think it would be quite romantic ! 

You really can't imagine what a comfort 

It is to have no matron to annoy one, 

To dog one's steps and harp on what is proper ! 

A girl that 's civilized don't need a matron. 



A Ml Desert Pastoral. 27 

Thank Heaven, father let me come without one. 

He kicked at first, but by judicious treatment 

I brought him round. I 'm ready now, if you are. 

T/iey proceed to the staircase and sit dotmz on the top stair, with the 
water-pitcher betwee7t them. 

ALICE {mufiching crackers). 

O, ain't this jolly, it is so informal ! 
Why, only think, we two set out together 
At nine this morning to explore and ramble. 
We Ve spent the day together on the mountain, 
And never parted once. The heat of noontide 
Found us companions still, and evening's shadow 
Saw you and me without a person near us. 
Where else, but here, could we do this without 
Exciting comment t 

ARTHUR. 

Nowhere, sad to mention. 
In Boston, where I live, if I should happen 
To walk twice with some fascinating creature 
I should dead certain be reported smitten, 
Engaged, and when that turned out false, rejected. 
But here, to pass the day wifh whom you want to, — 
Pass two days, three days, four days, even five days, 
In the society of girls one fancies, 
Is not regarded as the least peculiar. 
What do you say, now, to a row by moonlight ? 



28 Oxygcji. 

ALICE. 

The very thing ! O, what a boon is freedom ! 

They rise from the stah's. She goes to her room and gets a s/uizcl, which 
he tenderly puts over her shoulders. Arm in arm they go doion, 
leaving the pitcher in the t?iiddle of the staircase. 



Scene II. — Bar Harbor. Ml. Desert. 

A roiv-boat is floating on the tranquil laater. A nearly full moon is 
high in the heavens. She is stretched out in the stei'n. He slowly 
paddles with the oars. Several other boats can be seen in the distance^ 
but not near enough to distinguish the parties. . 

ALICE. 

This is a first-rate phice to get acquainted ; 
Day before yesterday I 'd never seen you, 
And now I feel as if I 'd known you ages. 

ARTHUR. 

In my prim city, I might Hve next door to 
A girl for ten years, and not know her nearly 
As well as I know you. This comes of freedom ! 
Look at those boats on this side and on that side, 
Each freighted with two other kindred spirits, 
More intimate, perhaps, than even we are. 
They probably have rambled weeks together, 
And rowed upon the water every evening. 
This beats the New Republic all to hollow; 
Paul and Virginia were nothing to it. 



A Alt. Desert Pastoral, 29 

ALICE. 

If I were at Nahant, Cohasset, Newport, 

Or any other of those horrid phices, 

1 should be forced in cold blood to abandon 

This blessed moon, and go to bed when pa did. 

But, fortunately, Mrs. Easy-Going, 

Who promised pa to keep an eye upon me, 

Don't care a button what I do, provided 

1 do not interfere widi her Amelia, 

Who spends her time with little Peter Minestock. 

I hope she '11 get him, but I pity Peter ! 

By -ivay of variety, she gives hivi a playful spatter with the oar. He 
laughs, and spatters her hack. lie proposes to anchor, and she ac- 
quiesces. She stretches herself out in the stern, he in the boxv, with a 
pipe. 

ALICE. 

Now, ain't this lovely, to be so devoted ! 
It 's twenty times as good as an engagement, 
Because we know that, if we ever happen 
To weary of each other, we have only 
To part, and cotton to another person, — 
You to some girl, and I to some new fellow. 

ARTHUR. 

I could spend years with you and never- weary ! 

ALICE. 

Don't be too sure. You 're merely a spring chicken. 
And I have practised at this thing four summers. 



30 Oxygen. 

You will get sick of me before a fortnight 
Is ended. 

ARTHUR. 

Never, O, believe me, never ; 
I ne'er have seen a girl that I admired, 
Adored, respected, loved, and venerated 
So much as I do you. 

ALICE. 

What perfect nonsense ! 
What would your ma say ? O, young man, be careful ; 
All Philadelphians are not like me, sir ! 
Nine out of ten would snap you up directly 
For words like those, and marry you before you 
Could count Jack Robinson ! 

ARTHUR. 

O lovely being ! 
I 'm thine forever, if you only say so. 
For all I care, my ma may go to glory. 

ALICE. 

How sweet to be thus loved ! No more at present, 
I will reflect on what you say. It 's time now 
To go to bed. What hour says your repeater "i 

ARTHUR. 

*T is half past twelve. 



A Mt. Desert Pastoral. 31 

ALICE. 

'T is sad to part, but needful. 

They slowly get to rights and haul tip the anchor. She takes the oars 
and rows towards the shore; he pnffs his pipe peftsively. 



Scene III. — The Corridor of the Rodick House. 
Hour, 1. 1 5 A. M. 

They re-enter arm in arm. Somebody has stepped on and upset the 
pitcher during their absence. After a few minutes' conversation he 
goes and gets some more boiling water. 

ALICE {going into her room). 
And now, once more, good night. 

ARTHUR. 

To-morrow morning 
I '11 come at nine. 

ALICE (sticking her head out). 

All right, I shall be ready, 
And we will spend the day again together. 
As usual to our mutual satisfaction. 
We '11 climb, read poetry, drive, row, loaf, and ramble 
From morn to dewy eve, and I will teach you 
The latest dodge in scientific flirting ; 
Giving you points, and Heaven knows you need them ! 
You'll be an adept by this time next summer. 
If you don't let such stuff as that you uttered 
To-night destroy the fruits of my good teaching. 



32 Oxygen. 

But when, in future days, you are distinguished 
For being able with your little finger 
To set the heart of any girl a beating, 
And not to care a rush, say that I taught you. 
Say, " Alice Bunting, a sweet Philadelphian, 
A maiden unaffected and spontaneous, 
Who always did exactly what she wanted. 
And went from principle without a matron. 
Found me a callow youth, a perfect chicken, 
• And made me what I am. — Be hers the glory." 
Good night, good night ! Remember, nine to-morrow. 

ICisses her hand to him, and c'oses the door. 
ARTHUR. 

Good night, good night! O, why ain't more girls like her! 
Walks sloiuly and pensively down the corridor. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



016 117 336 8 



''^H 



